I barely Learned Your Tune
by nazcarfanatic
Summary: Reese and Shaw learn of Root's death. Shaw sneaks away and steals a car and drives a long time while a song stuck in the CD player relates how she feels about Root. Inspired by a Simon and Garfunkel song.


The ex CIA agent faced Sameen, and with his usual stoic expression, gave a slight subtle shake of the head. What seemed like a century passed in between that second, Intuitively Shaw knew what John was implying, but the brave woman also possessed the advantage of knowing that this whole ordeal was a figment of her imagination. A nuclear bomb couldn't kill that woman, and Shaw would die before anything ever let anything happen to Root, it has to be a simulation, because she is still alive, nothing more to it, the universe would never be this cruel.

The short Persian sociopath gave a cold, lifeless, stare, combined with her trademark clenched jaw and pursed lips. This would normally be the easiest thing in the world, yet as she begins to speak, the words fall short and never come through, after intense focus Shaw manages to force out "We need to get to Finch."

"I've got a feeling Finch isn't here anymore", John Reese forces out, with a slight break in his voice, doing everything to contain the powerful emotions piling up inside of him.

A fusion of impatience and anger surfaces _no shit Reese_. The impulsive thought catches Sameen off guard and she finds herself tilting her head, unable to figure out how or why she's having trouble processing all this information. "Then why did his number come up?"

"I think it's more of a warning of what he plans to do to them", Reese stated.

* * *

Sameen faces the facility, her eyes have been drained of any light, as if her life force was slowly being sucked out of her, yet, Shaw welcomes it, feeling like she's deserving of this somehow. Consequences for letting Root die in a simulation, it has to be a simulation. Miniscule rain drops tap her on the face, again, and again and again. All Shaw can find herself doing is staring at the carnage behind her, purposeless, apathetic to chaos for the first time in her life.

"Shaw, come on, Finch already has a head start", John commanded as he pulled himself together like the soldier he is as he hurried back to the car.

The short Persian woman, continued staring at the pandemonium behind the prison fence, trying, no forcing herself to find joy in the chaos, the inmates being tackled and subdued as they were rounded back up. For some reason her mind and body are content with just standing there, frozen in time as rain drops fall on her stoic face, like vile, tormenting bastards.

"Go I'll catch up to you", the words spill out of her mouth with no articulation, no inflection, just cold and instinctual.

John Reese regretfully acknowledges her request and complies as he speeds off in the vehicle.

Shaw walks away, in a random direction, for what seems like hours, when in reality it's only been close to one hour. Her mind and body have reverted to her most primal functions of survival. Along her tormenting walk her curse intensifies as she's forced to observe almost every sort of human interaction. Carbon based life forms smiling, hugging, talking, groups of friends walking and talking together while having the time of their lives. All Sameen, can do is stroll along with a wide eyed lifeless stare. Until she happens upon a blue, rain soaked, decade old truck parked in a desperately random location.

* * *

The 2005 Dodge in some strange way, called to her, or maybe it was her unconscious mind commanding her to find warmth as the rain was making her cold. Sycophanticly Sameen busted the window, maybe somehow hoping the the glass shards would cause her to feel something, anything, hell even pain was something she was willing to entertain. The short woman hotwired the car and proceeded to drive along the more isolated New York roads.

The ripped fabric in the seat and to a lesser extent the steering wheel while minuscule, were the only things to cause any stimulation from her brain, even though she was pelted by streetlight, after streetlight as she zoomed by them.

Sameen slowly reached and lightly tapped the power button on the radio, and was greeted by an old Simon and Garfunkel song.

 _So long, Frank Lloyd Wright._  
 _I can't believe your song is gone so soon._  
 _I barely learned the tune_  
 _So soon._

Sameen begins to come back to her senses momentarily, her breathing becomes fierce and vicious.

 _All of the nights we'd harmonize till dawn._

The Persian warrior in a fit of impulsive anger jabs her finger at the eject button with the intent of chucking the CD out the window, and finds to her surprise that the CD is jammed, and its just another point to add onto the piece of shit truck mental note. Nonetheless Sameen keeps jabbing relentlessly at the eject button.

 _This could take all night_ , that lilt and perky voice haunts her thoughts, memories can be such vile repulsive brutes.

So as Sameen has a quick anger fueled meltdown comprised of her slamming her firsts on every conceivable surface in the truck, the song continues.

 _Architects may come and_  
 _Architects may go and_  
 _Never change your point of view._

A small clothing shop is illuminated in the distance by the truck's imposing headlights. Now being the dead of midnight the shop has long since been closed down. Unbeknownst to her as to why, Sameen steps on the accelerator racing full speed at the buiding.

 _So long, Frank Lloyd Wright._  
 _I can't believe your song is gone so soon._  
 _I barely learned the tune_  
 _So soon_  
 _So soon._

The self diagnosed sociopath locks onto the front of the clothing shop and at a lethal speed plows right through the front entrance, with the two ton truck. Within an instant like clockwork, lights explode, the airbag deploys, shelves and other solid objects are completely obliterated as the impact finally stops the truck.

Ninety seconds pass by, and Sameen once again finds herself still afflicted and tormented with the same curse, as she finds herself still alive. She slides out of the wreckage, and grabs a thick dark gray jacket and a black hat.

* * *

With no affect the brave warrior spends the next hour robotically lumbering towards central park.

Once there, she sits on the cold, wet, iron rim of a third rate merry go-round and spins. For hours, and hours.

 _I barely learned your tune so soon,_ loops over in her thoughts followed by a familiar face _we might as well be a symphony._

The two contradictory thoughts looped over in Sameen's mind relentlessly until the break of dawn when, for a split second, decided to fight and quickly forced her subconscious to mount a defense that would sustain her for a little while longer.

 _It's just a simulation._


End file.
